I've avoided reading comment and message board reactions to the Jesse Eisenberg as Lex Luthor casting news in an attempt to keep my own feelings pure. I can easily imagine three possible Internet responses, however:

1) NO! THIS IS TERRIBLE. I HATE THIS. I'M SO MAD. I LIVE IN A BASEMENT. WHY WAS THE ENDING OF LOST SO BAD?! KAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHN!

2) People don't understand, man. Zack Snyder is trying to do something different! No one gives him enough credit. People need to chill the f out. Affleck and Eisenberg and Snyder will prove everyone wrong! Man, the ending of Lost was so good, I still think about that church. So deep. I have a girlfriend and live in a slightly less dark basement.

3) Time to make gifs! My own reaction is a tempered mix of number one and number three. I'm simply becoming increasingly disinterested with the film because, much like Man of Steel, it's not shaping into the kind of movie I admire. Which is fine, it just means I'm not going to support it if people I trust tell me it's not my bag. I've written more on the news here if you're insterested in reading further. The issue I have with the buzz generated by this film thus far has less to do with the fact that the variety of casting reveals demonstrate that the filmmakers seem more concerned with business and less concerned with hiring well-regarded thespians, and more to do with the fact that Batman & Superman have been completely overshadowed.

I'm lookin' whicked good, right about now, eh?

The Man of Steel and The Dark Knight, two iconic characters are going to appear on the silver screen for the first time in history! This simple truth is a massive, exciting event in both film and comic book history. But instead of focusing on that, we're more interested in arguing about Ben Affleck.

Obviously it is our love of these beloved fictional heroes that inspires such arguments, but it would seem our passion occasionally leads us astray. People will go to this movie wanting to see Ben Affleck fail or succeed, so that they can then go on the internet and say "I was right!". Out of pure curiosity for his performance, people will attend, eager to assess him and Eisenberg throughout the picture.

Meanwhile, everyone should be going to see if it's just a good movie. This is why casting accomplished actors like Christian Bale or Michael Fassbender, or unknowns, works in an event film's favor. Perhaps by the time it finally releases we'll be more focused on the right thing, but in the meantime we've lost sight of the actual significance of this movie. The film already has a variety of stigmas, even more than most sequels, and this is getting in the way of ever being able to have a pure experience of it. It is the writer and the director's job to orient the public's focus, to remind us all of what really matters; the majesty that is Batman and Superman joining forces for the first time. Zack Snyder and David Goyer have done no such thing (that I've seen anyway), instead permitting the existence of idiotic flames in which this film will burn.

In this age of snark and sarcasm, we're just so "smart", flooded with even the most minute information about the art that we are supposed to love and protect that we're incapable of having an honest experience. We are corrupt, and in this way we corrupt the characters we love. We permit our modern gods to be sullied by the simpleton arguments of teethlees voices and thoughtless minds.

And that is a shame, because this negativity stems from, initially, a pure place of love.

Instead of the constant bickering, let us simply hope that Goyer and Snyder have written an excellent film, where our beloved heroes save us from turmoil once again. And if we don't think we'll like the film, let us be brave enough to not support it.

Let us remember the iconic nature of the two originals, from which all of this came.

Let us hope for the world's finest. Feel free to share your thoughts on this casting news below. Live long and prosper.

The demand for massive, tent-pole studio films based on beloved franchises and culturally significant characters is at an all-time high. Our summer-theaters are packed, month after month, with a seemingly endless stream of comic book films, sequels, reboots, and reimagined archetypes.

Many criticize this trend for creating a cultural and creative vacuum (for cinema in particular), and while there's certainly some truth to this criticism we can find solace in the surprising availability of unique, independent cinema in commercial theaters like AMC and via streaming services like Netflix, Hulu Plus and Xbox Video.
An entire generation is growing up in an environment where they have easy access to the complete works of filmmakers like Igmar Bergman and Woody Allen. This bodes well for the future should moviegoers eventually sour on "event films" like the forthcoming "Man of Steel 2" or Marvel's many massive blockbusters, because it means a variety of fresh voices, raised on quality works of art, will bring their unique sensibilities to the medium.

At the moment, however, there is an alarming lack of variety in mainstream cinema, especially with beloved characters that benefit from multiple interpretations.
There is a downside to the enormity and cost of films like Man of Steel 2 and any sequels that follow, that we may not have considered. So much time, energy, and money goes into these films that they simply must succeed, and should they succeed they will become an entire generation's definitive understanding of that beloved comic book character. But what if that generation's understanding is formed by a poorly-made, poorly thought-out creation?

My own understanding of the Batman was initially shaped by the first Batman film directed by Tim Burton released in 1989. That vision will inevitably factor into every interpretation I experience. That's not necessarily a bad thing, it's only inevitable, but I wonder if the increasing cultural significance of these massive comic book movies will have a potentially negative effect on a future generation's willingness to seek out other interpretations of a character like Batman or Superman. And the increasingly narrow market in which this films are made means that an odd, but beautiful film like Burton's Batman would never see the light of day. We are moving into a future where even Chris Nolan's initial vision likely wouldn't be entertained by a studio.
Many children will now grow up believing that Superman snaps necks when he needs to. That particular version of the character will continue to exist likely for the next decade, perhaps beyond, because of the emphasis placed on canon, and the need to not confuse audiences and flood the market anymore than it already is. So the vacuum created is not only limited to creativity for the medium as a whole, but one where these characters have a limited range, limited scope, constructed by a committee of businessmen whose focus is a good "return on investment".

A more interesting world to live in is one more akin to what we have in the comic book medium, where characters like Batman and Superman can be reimagined in thought-provoking ways without sacrificing quality or integrity. Certainly, given the way the film industry works, two simultaneous Batman-franchises might wear out audiences. But what if both films were good and entirely different from one another and came out years apart? What if there was the tent-pole Batman and the art-house Batman? In such a world we could finally get our Batman Beyond movie.

I know it might seem hypocritical to argue for more of these films, but that's an unfair reduction of my argument. The point is that these characters originally exist in a medium that lends itself to variety. And these characters appeal to people in different ways. To be "forced" to watch Zack Snyder's Superman for the next decade is not something I'm interested in, personally. A different cinematic world, one where different versions of these characters could coexist without "saturating the market" is a potentially freer, more exciting one.
For example, I would love to see a Superman film set in the post World War II 1940s. Or an art deco Batman inspired by The Animated Series. Instead I must watch interpretations that might interest me less because a studio is required to stick with that money-making version. Studios will therefore be more influential and discerning when setting out to reboot or construct a new interpretation. A really exciting, creative and perhaps offbeat filmmaker who wants to make a depression-era Batman-film will be seen as a risk and, therefore, ignored.

And so most of these comic book films will be set in modern-day and attempt to appeal to a very specific, narrow-minded audience. As a result, it becomes increasingly unlikely for these films to actually be good, honest interpretations of these iconic characters. The impetus for such movies will be a series of charts and numbers, target demographics and hitting all the right beats. The result is a film that might be enjoyable, but is more of a business-mechanism than a work of art.
This is nowhere more apparent than in the future of the Star Wars franchise. All the "right" people were brought in to produce the next trilogy and spinoffs - meaning all of the predictable and safe people. Even supposedly intelligent choices like shooting on film and involving Lawrence Kasdan are business decisions, not creative ones, meant to satisfy those who were let down by the prequels. We now live in an environment where "good decisions" and "quality" are check-marks on a "good-franchise-movie-guideline". No matter how well-made they might be, it is a sterile sort of "well-made", lacking integrity.

This is why we should all be thankful for Chris Nolan's Dark Knight Trilogy. Those films, for all their flaws, are uniquely an artist's vision. In the future, with this next version of Batman and Superman, I'm not so sure that's what we're going to get.

'Someone's taking a picture...I have to strike the typical-director pose!'

Fortunately there will continue to be animated films and the comics themselves, offering up oftentimes purer versions of these mythologies, but it would be nice to see Hollywood loosen its belt, and perhaps permit more daring, intellectual interpretations.

How do you feel about all of this? Are you happy with all the comic book movies and franchise-pictures, or are you wary of what it means for the future? Feel free to comment and follow if you dig. Thanks for reading.

I didn't enjoy the movie. I don't want to fan angry flames, only hear, honestly, how others feel about the movie and the character, because despite my feelings about the movie I remain open-minded that one day I could enjoy it. I can only describe my experience of the film, though. I'm not espousing any particular group-mentality over the other, only my individual opinion. I will share the feelings I had whilst watching and immediately following the movie as I left the theater, untainted by the prevailing internet hive-mind. Many of these thoughts are similar to what others have expressed, of course, but they reflect how I felt whilst experiencing the film.
I wanted to like it so badly, and found some pleasure in certain scenes, but from the outset I was fairly sure this wasn't the movie I wanted it to be. It just wasn't made with the sensibilities I appreciate nor find interesting. The dragons, the shaky camera, the rushed, breakneck pace put me off very early on during the Krypton opening, disorienting me and leaving me feeling alienated, as though the movie was much more interested in appealing to short-attention spans than those seeking a rousing super hero adventure (and then came the eye-rolling abs shot from which I could not recover). I wasn't hoping for anything like the Richard Donner films, but I certainly wasn't hoping for a movie that felt like Avatar meets Transformers.

People who dislike the film and cite the bleak tone or erratic style of filmmaking as what put them off are wrongfully accused of simply wanting to remain in an irrelevant Christopher Reeve past. I just want to see a good, intelligent movie that takes its time. That's why I like the first Superman more. It's just better made and more honest.
I want Superman to be reimagined, for him to be made pertinent once again. But I don't think the way to do that is by repackaging him in a very stereotypical-looking modern action movie that never takes a beat. Superman is timeless and should be filmed with that in mind. Fifty years from now Man of Steel will look far more dated than Richard Donner's Superman.

I don't want to be bombarded with explosions and chaos and sterility and obligatory brooding protagonists. It felt to me that the thinking behind the construction of Man of Steel was akin to those behind the Star Trek reboot: make it cool. 'Pertinent to modern audiences' does not simply mean making a film that looks and feels like other successful summer blockbusters (complete with a surprising amount of product-placement).

For example, shows like Mad Men are incredibly pertinent and successful, but without pandering to demographics. It is simply aware of itself and confidently tells a well-crafted story.
A pertinent work of art simply reflects the preoccupations of the times, but also hopefully taps into a timeless social consciousness - meditating on issues and concerns that are symptoms of the human condition. They could have set a Superman film in the 1940s and it could have remained relevant. But the minds behind Man of Steel are preoccupied with the superficial now; the best special effects, the best fight scenes, and satiating the pubescent masses.

And so you get a relentless action flick with overpowering special effects, collapsing buildings, and trite themes. You get a movie that just isn't for me. And that's fine. I can think it's poorly made all I want, that doesn't particularly matter when the movie exists like a chair I would never buy because it just wasn't comfortable to me. It's simply not my bag, so it's impossible for me to like. And it's useless trying to convince anyone who loves this movie that their experience of it does not necessarily reflect an objective value of the film as a work of art.
I can certainly appreciate certain aspects of the movie - the cinematography is occasionally decent, the costumes are amazing, some of the special effects and fights are great, Kevin Costner is good, Henry Cevil has potential, and Michael Shannon is awesome. So, if I'm trying to be impartial, I'll call the movie an incredibly flawed, occasionally exciting, surprisingly cynical, typical tentpole popcorn flick.

I went in thinking that the film's early trailers reflected the actual tone of the movie, which they did not. Kevin Smith accurately described the film as a "Metallica" song. I was eager to see the Terence Malick-like Superman film those first teasers promoted, a somber but uplifting, expertly crafted work of cinematic art. Instead, I felt beaten over the head by a fifteen-year-old boy's wet dream.

I walked out of that theater with my best friend and we were both silent, mournful. It felt as though we had just left a funeral. That's not how you should feel when leaving a Superman movie. I didn't mind the fact that Superman snapped Zod's neck, only that it didn't feel earned. I didn't care enough about anything in the film (except Zod in the last ten minutes, who I began to root for), to feel moved by such a significant event in Superman's life. There didn't seem to be any consequences in the film - it seemed to exist more as a reaction against Superman Returns than a real, fully-conceived movie. It seemed to exist so as to satisfy all those who wanted to see Superman punch someone.

The film falls victim to the precedent set by The Dark Knight - producers of these movies seem to think that if they make Superman "dark" and "serious" that this will make him relevant and interesting again.

I think in the hands of more skillful, considerate filmmakers The Man of Steel could exist as both a "badass" for all those who want to see him punch something, and an inspiring, decidedly not-dark beacon of hope and prosperity.
I admit to liking the traditional take of Superman as our "friend", but I think that version can still exist in a story with some teeth. My ideal Superman film would actually be set in an art deco 1940s-world. This would allow a skilled writer/director to deconstruct the character, comment on what it is we love and dislike about him, and examine him as he navigates the difficult process of maturing from a state of innocence to experience. Stylistically such a film would be beautiful to behold in the right hands, and unlike any other modern super hero film. The studio would obviously never gamble on such a take, though.
Superman is a unique hero more for his personality than his powers - he's actually a good person. His psychosis can indeed come from feeling like an outsider (and he can even perhaps be bitter for needing to continually save us destructive little humans), but he should always be striving to raise us up, and better himself in the process, inspired by the good he sees in the human spirit. The character is forever-relevant. Only the cynics and those in search of the fleeting, almighty "cool" will write him off as "too powerful", "impossible to realize on-screen", "simple", "cheesy", and the like. The truth is that he is a character as thematically powerful and complex as any of our timeless fictional heroes. He just needs to be handled with care.

At the end of my discussion with the commenter, I summed up my disdain for the latest film: I want to be moved, inspired by a Superman film. I want to smile and clap, to be reminded of my childhood dream of flight, that I too could be a hero, to feel like someone is watching out for me. I don't want to feel like I just watched a conceited god decide whether or not he wants to helpme.
And by the end of the film, I don't even understand why Superman does decide to save us. It's all somewhat arbitrary. He's not motivated by a love of his friends or family. It's seemingly more just because he's powerful enough to do it.

There's a moment when Zod proclaims in the middle of their fight, "This can only end with one of us dead.". I think the much more interesting Superman is one that rejects that idea, one who succeeds by proving Zod wrong, and does not kill him.

Instead, we are left with a far bleaker interpretation that endorses the supposed necessity of murder. Whether or not this is addressed in later films is irrelevant. Within this film, we are told: sometimes we must kill to win. And that, in a Superman film, disgusts me.

I know there are some who find other qualities of the character appealing, and feel the recent screen adaptation works for them. And I'm curious to know why, without judgment. So please comment below on your own experience with Man of Steel, and what is about Superman that resonates (or doesn't) with you.